One Last Time.

This is my final issue of Conservation Matters. After eight and a half years as CLF's Publications Director and the editor of this magazine, it is time to say goodbye and move on.

Looking back, I am amazed at how far we have traveled. When I came on board in January 1992, what I inherited was a 16-page, two-color newsletter with no other name but CLF. It was strictly limited to providing updates on the organization's activities to CLF members. Under the guidance of a dynamic, engaged, and thoughtful editorial committee chaired by former Boston Globe editor Tom Winship, the newsletter rapidly expanded. As the organization grew, we felt an increasing need to serve our mission of public education by presenting readers with insightful, well-informed discussions on the foremost environmental issues facing New England. The birth of Conservation Matters (CM) filled that need.

I still remember the intense excitement with which we opened the first box of magazines delivered to the office by our printer during the summer of 1994. That, too, was a two-color publication, but within a year, we decided to stop using the second color on the inside pages and use the savings to switch to a full-color cover. CM as we know it today started with the Summer 1995 issue. A framed copy of that cover--a photograph of a Maine fisherman hauling up his catch--still hangs in my office. In the last five years, I have looked at it often and always felt energized. Like that lone fisherman, New England's environment still faces many problems, despite the progress of the last 30 years. And it is more important than ever to continue the work of educating the public through what we write in a magazine like Conservation Matters.

I find it particularly apt that we planned this Summer 2000 issue to be a special one on food--the vital stuff. As the population of the world expands, as pollution of earth and water increases, and as climate change threatens to affect all previous assumptions about food production, the concept of food security is changing from simple access to issues of economic and ecological access. Science, money, and ethics will all play out in this millennium's food production.

Most of us tend to forget that of the many human aggressions on nature, agriculture has been the most significant. And yet, it is only recently that the production, transportation, distribution, and delivery of food have become prime environmental concerns. As Warren Leon's article demonstrates, we can exercise choices that can affect all those activities and have beneficial or harmful effects on the planet. The proliferation of organic foods, of community-supported agriculture, of groups like the Chefs Collaborative 2000--all indicate an increasing desire on the part of the American consumer to exercise choices that go beyond picking out the nicest looking vegetables in the supermarket.

The current debate raging around the issue of genetically modified (GM) foods is another example of consumer awareness. But it is a debate that reaches well beyond this country. As portrayed in the media, global aid and trade bodies like the. World Bank, the United Nation, and the World Trade Organization seem to be hand in glove with giant agribusiness companies like Monsanto in an effort to perpetuate the use of super seeds that produce the so-called "Frankenfoods" and reduce biodiversity. Sections of the public--generally those who have fought hard for environmental protection--are naturally up in arms against this evil conspiracy. Issues of justice, equity, food security, and health are grist to the mill of this debate, as exemplified by Molly Anderson's thoughtful essay.

But the topic of GM foods is anything but simple. It is not only a matter of conflicting interests between consumer, small farmer, and big business. It also illuminates the excruciating polarity between the developed and the developing world. At a recent debate titled "The Genetic Revolution and the Developing World," organized by Harvard University's Department of Environmental Studies, I heard three people discuss this. They were M.S. Swaminathan, winner of the World Food Prize and a leader of India's green revolution, Dr. Hans Herren of the Institute of Ecology in Nairobi, Kenya, and also a winner of the World Food Prize, and Dr. Martha Herbert, a pediatric neurologist at Massachusetts General and McLean Hospitals, who works on neurotoxins in food.

All three speakers stressed the fact that science takes time, that the science of genetics is far from complete, and yet passions are running so high that the debate is being reduced to slogans. The mounting public distrust only makes things worse. What we really need is the collaboration of governments, nongovernmental organizations, civil society, and scientific institutions to create a mechanism that inspires public confidence. Biotechnology is a powerful tool. It can do a world of good, but it needs to be used primarily for public good, not private profit. More important, it cannot be the sole avenue to pursue. Agriculture, to remain sustainable, must remain in harmony with itself and that can be achieved only when many different techniques come into play.

For me, as a native of India and a long-term resident of the U.S., this debate has extraordinary resonance. Living in a land of plenty, I cannot forget that 50 years ago, India and many other developing countries faced chronic food shortages. The high-yielding rice varieties engineered through biotechnology created the so-called green revolution and reversed the course of history. Despite pockets of malnutrition, India can now produce enough food to feed her enormous population. That is a powerful argument for biotech supporters. Lately, the media has reported the emergence of the so-called golden rice, which is genetically modified to include enough Vitamin A to prevent blindness in vulnerable populations, especially in Africa. But the history of scientific advances is not just about success but also about unintended consequences. If we allow our food to change, what will that food change for us, if not today, then perhaps 20 years later?

These are questions none of us can walk away from. As I walk away from being the editor of CM, I am about to enter deeper into a world where I have been a part-time sojourner--the world of the food historian and writer. The awareness of the crucial food issues of today will, I hope, bring me greater insight and appreciation in writing about the long-established food traditions of my native society and of others. And in saying farewell to the readers of CM, it gives me particular satisfaction to present them with a discussion of some of these questions.

The rewards of bringing up a magazine are too numerous to catalogue. I have received the help of many--the staff writers at CLF; Tom Winship, who guided us through many changes with a steady hand; Dianne Dumanoski and Jane Holtz Kay, who not only provided a wealth of ideas, but also donated excellent articles; our graphics designer David Gerratt, who helped create the CM/CLF look; photographer Ken Martin, who made a personal mission of finding appropriate photos; and our printer Puritan Press, who went out of the way to meet Schedules and demonstrate commitment. For the infant CM, it really did take a village to raise the child.

On my last day, I left the office at 62 Summer Street knowing that each one of them has been, for me, a unique, enriching relationship. I looked back one last time and saw the walls of the office reception area decorated with framed reproductions of CM covers, painted by artists who gave us their work at far below the market rate. It was a good feeling to have been part of that history before I set out on other journeys of my own.